Page 3

I refused to give Vaughn the satisfaction of a response then and now.

I kept my breathing steady, my body perfectly still, until I heard the door close behind them. Only then did I allow myself to move, rolling onto my back and staring at the ceiling in the darkness.

I checked the time on my phone, dismissed Arden’s text without responding, and closed my eyes, knowing sleep wouldn’t come for hours.

Tomorrow, I’d fix this. Tomorrow, if I couldn’t get a single room, I’d figure out a way to get a different room with a different roommate—one whose goal in life wasn’t fucking with my head. Tomorrow, I’d go back to thinking straight. Focusing on what mattered.

But tonight, I lay in the dark and tried not to think about Elliot Vaughn’s voice, the way it made me feel, or the fact that for the first time in my carefully orchestrated life, I’d gotten hard listening to someone else have sex.

It wasn’t about him. No fucking way. I wasn’t into guys.

It was about the girl. The act.

The intensity of it.

The raw filth of it.

Anyone would have felt the same.

I continued to chant that lie in my head as my hand shuttled angrily over my cock and I came with the echo of Elliot Vaughn’s voice in my ear calling me babygirl.

2

VAUGHN

“Thanks for walking me home,” the girl—Sarah, maybe?—said, flicking her dark hair over her shoulder as we exited the dorm into the cool night air. The north Georgia mountains were still stupid-hot in late summer, but at least the heat backed off a little after dark.

“It’s fine.” The words were bitten off. Impatient. Like just breathing McNeely’s air had turned me into an asshole. I forced myself to add in a slightly gentler tone, “I wouldn’t let you walk alone at night.”

This was true. My mother had raised me to protect those who needed protecting. She wouldn’t hesitate to come back from the cemetery down the road and smack me on the back of the head if she saw I wasn’t looking out for others.

Fortunately, that rule didn’t apply to my roommate.

Corbett McNeely the fucking third didn’t need anyone’s protection. He’d already gotten more out of life than any one human deserved.

Son of Senator Corbett McNeely of Georgia.

Demere University’s star kicker and all-around golden boy.

Tall. Ripped. Clean-cut and pretty, with the sole exception of a tattoo I’d caught a sliver of at the edge of his underwear. Confident and charming in the way someone could only be when they knew they were the sun and the world orbited around them—which should’ve been the opposite of sexy, but no one ever said the world was fair.

He was also more concerned with one-upping his friends and teammates by doing stupid shit than actually studying. And yet he’d gotten a full-ride scholarship. He’d get a degree he probably hadn’t earned. He’d end up in a fancy job working for one of his dad’s rich friends, while the rest of us were out here fighting for scraps.

I fucking hated him.

And now I’d be sharing a room with him until graduation.

The idea made my stomach clench with anticipation, and I snorted softly as I walked.

My sister, Gracie, had been over the moon when our uncle Dalton agreed to spring for the two of us to live on campus for our senior year. Demere was expensive as fuck, but we were here because it boasted the best pre-law program in the Southeast, which had always been Gracie’s dream. She was buzzing like a happy little bee at the opportunity to network, make friends, and have the full campus experience.

I’d been less excited. To be fair, I loved the fact that Demere was in my hometown so I could keep earning money working weekends at my uncle’s garage. But the real reason I was at pricy Demere rather than a state school was so I could run the underground fight club Dalton had started as a way to pay our tuition. And for me, nothing had changed this year. I’d still recruit fighters, encourage paying spectators to come out on Friday nights to watch and place bets, and get in the cage from time to time. Who cared where I slept?

Then I’d learned who my roommate was… and I’d started to care a whole fuck of a lot.

For three years, McNeely had spewed his entitlement all over campus. He’d charmed his professors into giving him A’s. He’d kicked field goals for the fans—field goals, for Christ’s sake. When the rest of the team was out there sweating and clawing for every down, this princess just jogged out for three seconds of glory like he was making a guest appearance. He’d driven around with his fake-tit girlfriend in the passenger seat of his sleek BMW M4.

That was… whatever. None of my damn business.